


summer night

by lacecat



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season 4, Returning Home, sort of post-treasure island, suggested Silver/Madi/Flint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: He’s trying so hard to get comfortable, forcing his eyes to stay closed, that he doesn’t even hear the horse ride up to the house. Nor does he hear the rider carefully dismount, tie the reins to the post out front. Not even when he accidentally knocks into the water trough with a muffled curse, or when he’s treading to the door.When the rider opens the door, however, that’s when he jolts into full consciousness. His heartbeat picks up, adrenaline coursing through his system at the sudden intrusion, his fingers already moving towards the knife stashed on the side of the mattress.Then he recognizes that distinct unbalanced step, the soft thud of a crutch.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick thing I wrote because season 4 is ONE DAY AWAY and I wanted to get some last minute fluff out before they likely dash my dreams, so here it is!

Even though it’s the middle of the night, the heat is still oppressive, creeping in through every corner of the house until the air hangs heavy above him, making the room into a sweltering chamber. Even as he lies there on the bed, the blankets long discarded off him, he can feel tiny droplets of sweat dot his back, run down his sides into the sticky sheets piled below him. 

 

He’s trying so hard to get comfortable, forcing his eyes to stay closed, that he doesn’t even hear the horse ride up to the house. Nor does he hear the rider carefully dismount, tie the reins to the post out front. Not even when he accidentally knocks into the water trough with a muffled curse, or when he’s treading to the door. 

 

When the rider opens the door, however, that’s when he jolts into full consciousness. His heartbeat picks up, adrenaline coursing through his system at the sudden intrusion, his fingers already moving towards the knife stashed on the side of the mattress. 

 

Then he recognizes that distinct unbalanced step, the soft thud of a crutch. 

 

“You’re late,” James grumbles from where his face is pressed into the pillow, letting the knife fall with a soft thud on the ground. “I thought someone had surely had enough of your mouth and just killed you in some desolate port.” 

 

There’s quiet laughter, and John Silver crosses the room to sit on the bed next to him. James squints his eyes, but in the dark, he can only see the shadowy outline of the man, even though he’s so close now. “That right is reserved for you to take, unfortunately.” There’s a soft clunk, as he must let the crutch drop to the ground. “Don’t I get a welcome?”

 

James groans, but allows himself to be maneuvered as John pulls at his shoulder, the man leaning over him as he rolls. “Your welcome was a week ago,” he says, trying to sound annoyed, as John draws him in for a deep, slow kiss. He smells and tastes like the sea, the tang of salt and musk of leather flooding his senses, and his lips are still slightly chapped like he’s been riding in the wind for too long. An embarrassing sound comes out of James’s mouth as John’s tongue licks along the seam of his mouth. It’s been too long.

 

His hands come up to tangle in John’s hair, which is longer than the last time he’d seen him by the feel of things. Their mouths slide together in an unhurried fashion, but John breaks away with another laugh when James can’t stop a yawn from emerging into the kiss. 

 

“Move over. I’ve been riding all day, and everything hurts,” he says. James shifts over so that he can lie down next to him, turning on his side so that they fit better on the bed.

 

“And where’s your wife, then?” James asks, as the man’s arm coming to drape over his torso, his hand sneaking just slightly underneath his nightshirt. “Last I heard, you were going to bring her here after your scheme.”

 

“Still at the inn, I’m afraid. She sends her love, and told me to give you this,” John says, pressing a kiss high on James’s cheek, despite the awkward angle from where he’s lying behind him. “To the husband of her husband, she said.” 

 

“Did she now,” James mutters, but with John’s weight finally pressed up against him, he’s feeling more comfortable in this bed than he has in months, even though John’s additional body heat is making more sweat form on his back. “She’s not exactly wrong.” 

 

“And this,” John continues, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, making James shiver slightly, “Is from a man who would have given his other leg to be here a week ago.”

 

“You’re lucky it wasn’t two weeks. I might have had to track you down myself, then, and wouldn’t that be a surprise addition to the legend of Long John Silver, if he was suddenly struck down by an irate lover at the end of his journey.”

 

“Certainly adds to the dramatic quality,” John mutters into his neck, before shifting up so that he curls more fully around James, his head ending up on the pillow above him. “God, I missed you.” 

 

“She told me you’d be this clingy,” James says, shutting his eyes once more and letting his head drift back towards John’s chest.

 

“She told me to make an effort not to irritate you. That you were content to live the humble life of a carpenter here, which apparently doesn’t allow for you losing your temper at wanted pirates in the middle of town.”

 

“Madi’s a smart woman,” James replies, and he can feel John’s smile in the back of his neck. 

 

“Maybe I’ll bring you to the inn, then. You two can glare at me together like old times’s sake. There haven’t been any rumors of Captain Flint coming back from the dead in a long time.”

 

The lure of sleep is too great to really consider his words, so James makes another muffled sound into his pillow. “Perhaps,” he says, but then he’s falling asleep before he can think any more.

 

The heat finally breaks sometime in the early morning. When he stirs awake, the sun has just barely risen outside, but it’s finally just cool enough to want a blanket to chase away the chilly air. 

 

John mumbles into the pillow when James sits up to pull a blanket over the two of them. He takes a moment to glance over the man lying next to him. There’s a new scar, still that too-familiar red color, running over his shoulder and upper arm. His beard, too, is much shorter then the last time he’d seen him, likely hastily shorn off a few weeks ago. 

 

But John looks peaceful, relaxed where he’s lying. His eyelids flicker slightly, and a beam of sunlight illuminates the bottom half of his face. James has to lie down againbefore he does something ridiculous like kiss the bridge of his nose, that John would never cease to make fun of him for. Then he really would have to follow through on one of his threats, and really, he’s just cleaned the floors, and blood is a nightmare to get out of wood. 

 

John must wake up more, for his foot works its way in between James’s calves as soon as he lies down and stops moving.

 

“How is your foot so fucking cold,” James hisses, wincing away. But there’s nowhere to go in the small bed, and he’s not quite at the point of outright pushing the man out of the bed onto the cold ground. Not yet. “Did you lose this one as well, and somehow have it replaced with metal?” 

 

“Good think yours stay so warm, then,” John says then, unrepentant, because he’s an asshole that James somehow keeps on letting into his bed. He tugs the blanket so it’s more fully over him, and James can practically feel his eye roll. “That better?” 

 

James doesn’t dignify that with an answer, instead rolling onto his other side so that his face is pressed against John’s neck. After a moment, he takes the skin of his collarbone in between his teeth and bites down. 

 

Though he doesn’t break skin, John jumps at the sting of teeth. “Ow, fuck!”

 

“I have to get up shortly,” James tells him grumpily, even though his voice is still rough from sleep. “I have an axle that needs to be made, and you’re keeping me from that.” 

 

“Alternatively, you could just stay here,” John urges, his arms coming up around James. “You’re about to be a very wealthy man, after all, and wealthy men don’t have to get up at ungodly hours to make anything.” 

 

“ _For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men_ ,” James says grimly into his chest. He lets out an undignified yelp when John swats him. “What the fuck was that for?” 

 

“I said wealthy, not pessimistic,” John complains. “I’ll help you make your axle, or whatever it is. Just- stay? For a little while?” 

 

Those last few words, he says in a quieter tone, almost longingly. James swallows. They’re going to have to talk about the future, and what bodes for them, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be quite ready for that conversation. 

 

Back when John set out for this treasure, or even back when James made his peace with Captain Flint, there were still unanswered questions brewing between them. Whether either of them deserved whatever peace they could manage to gather, or whether they could work out this relationship, this potential for life, to go to the inn and live with Madi in comfort for the rest of their days- it was all unsure, unsettled.

 

He thinks of this, and he’s going to need to ask those questions. But now, he settles into the warmth of John’s body pressed against his. He feels John relax against him, and thinks that perhaps he at least deserves this. 

 

After a long moment, John presses a kiss into his hair. “You really do need to relax. I can definitely see some grey hair starting to grow from here,” he says with the beginning rumble of a laugh trembling in his chest. 

 

“Fuck off,” James tells him, but holds onto him tight anyways. 

 

•••

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm jamesbarlow on tumblr!)
> 
> that brief quote is from Timon of Athens


End file.
